Shadows Searching
by LostInLost18
Summary: A challenge fic from Wickedgal08 based on the theme of 'Helping Out' between two characters that have never met. I chose Liam and Ana. Set after the season six finale, where two souls are drawn to the same place but for very different reasons.


Shadows Searching

He sat outside the church, well aware it was about quarter past twelve at night. He sat on the bench, a letter scrunched up in his hands, his eyes squeezed tight to stop the tears leaking from his eyes. He might've been slightly drunk – well, ok, maybe more than _slightly_ – but he wasn't stupid. You either wrote a letter to someone you cared about to say goodbye, or to say the words your mouth could never say.

"Excuse me?"

When he heard her voice, it took him a while to lift his head up. His bleary eyes caught sight of a woman with dark hair and a small but certainly not weak looking woman staring in his directions. She stepped into the light the street lamps provided, wearing an almost uncertain expression as she stared in his direction.

"You look like you've had too much to drink," she stated.

"And?" he replied defiantly.

She rolled her eyes, clearly used to his type before.

"I think you should move along, go back home and get a coffee or something, before you do something stupid," she suggested.

"I can't," he said, squeezing his eyes even tighter together.

She frowned, wondering if she had to literally escort him home. She'd had to do it before with many people who were drunk, yet not drunk enough to commit an act which would constitute the need for handcuffs.

"Mind if I ask why?"

"It'll sound stupid," he muttered. "Besides…why do you care?"

"I'm used to stupid. Believe me." She came to sit next to him, surprised by how utterly lost he looked, like he'd lost his best friend or something.

He scrutinised her carefully, suddenly wary. She had to be some sort of cop, based on the fact she was commanding him to go home so he didn't do anything stupid and, let's face it, she had the bossiness and the attitude of someone in the force. He'd had enough of police officers to be honest, and just thinking about the last time he'd been in a police station (not for himself, thank God) made him want to cry.

"Me and my brother are in a band," he began cautiously. "Well, _were._ We were at the top of our game, at the peak of our career, when something changed. A couple of nights ago, after playing a concert for this museum benefit thing, he comes into my dressing room and _hugs_ me."

"Wow, really? I can't believe the nerve of him," she replied flatly, almost pushing him into being serious.

He scowled at her.

"The last time he hugged me was when our mother _died_," he emphasised. "So when he shows up in our dressing room, clearly high on _something_, he hugs me and tells me I'm going to be ok, that he's gonna miss me, and I know something is up. But I don't know _what._" It still upset him that he couldn't quite figure out what was going on. "He put a letter in my hand, said he was sorry he couldn't explain, and then went. At first I was too pissed to figure out what was going on. I honestly thought he was committing suicide or something, which is why I've been going crazy these past few days searching for him but…"

"What?" she pressed, her brow furrowed with interest.

He glanced at her with sunken eyes which were filled with loss and despair, and she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt _sympathy_, even though she'd never really given a damn about anyone else before. She'd come here tonight for her own reasons, and found a kindred spirit in a stranger.

"Have you ever felt, and yet not known, that someone you loved was gone forever?" he asked wearily. "I think I felt it when he disappeared but, due to the amount of alcohol I'd taken, it didn't really hit until a few days later."

He threw his head in his hands and started sobbing weakly, not really sure why he felt this overwhelming sense of loss. He'd treated his brother like crap, forcing him into the band when it had always been about the music and yelling at him every time he'd wanted to get out because it seemed like they were in too deep. Charlie had turned to heroin and drugs because of _him_, the older brother who was supposed to set a good example. He'd failed him.

"I've been drawn to this church for a while," he said, after his sobs had subsided. "I went inside once, wondering if he was in there. It was empty. I don't know what I was expecting, but I kind of hoped, seeing how he was religious once upon a time, he would've been in there."

She scrutinised him carefully, surprised she was intrigued by what he was saying. She could relate to him in more ways than she cared to admit. For example, when he'd been talking about feeling someone was gone before you knew it, she remembered feeling something after her shooting which had gone beyond physical pain. She'd felt like something had slipped away from her, and the image of a tiny hand slipping out of hers had haunted her for a long, long time.

But she didn't want to admit to anyone, least of all herself, that this drunken stranger who was staring at a church of all things might have awoken a spark of interest within her. The only other character who'd sparked an interest had been Desmond Hume, who'd approached her out of nowhere to strike a deal with her which, under normal circumstances, she would've refused except for a) the massive bribe and b) he seemed to have another agenda which seemed almost worth the enormous trouble he'd get into if and when the cops found out three dangerous fugitives had escaped.

She was frustrated because she was interested, and she was interested because she was sure, not really understanding how, these various people who'd crossed paths with her had some sort of connection with her. It frustrated her not knowing this connection and yet understanding there _was_ one, and this stranger had only rekindled that feeling.

"What's the guy's name? Maybe I can help. I'm a cop," she offered, not sure why she was bothering. The guy was most likely a lost cause.

His glance at her told her he was thinking the exact same thing.

"I've not even had the guts to read his letter," he confessed, holding it up for her to see. "How pathetic's that? I keep trying to talk myself into doing it, convinced there might be some clue there that would tell me what's happened to him but I daren't read it. I'm afraid I'll find out something I don't want to know."

"Give it here," she commanded. "I'll read it out. If it'd been the other way around, I'd want to know."

He passed it too her, realising he _needed_ to hear this, no matter how painful it was. He felt somewhat reluctant to have a stranger reading out his brother's final thoughts but, even now, he realised he would never have had the courage to read what he could only assume was a suicide note. The guilt would resurface and he would drown in it, it was as simple as that.

She cleared her throat and began to read, making sure the stranger – who she could barely see properly, even under the street light – wouldn't do anything stupid.

_"Dear Li, _

_This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write, and it's frustrating having so much I want to say and knowing I can't write it all down, because you'd never believe me. Know that what I'm doing now, where I'm going, is what's supposed to happen. I don't know if I'll ever see you again but…I love you big bro. _

_We've had our ups and downs, and there have been moments I've wanted to throttle you because you've always had to have your own way. But I've always loved you. And believe it or not, I wouldn't have changed my life, not one bit. _

_I've met a girl, Li. Her name is Claire. She's blonde, rapturously beautiful, and I know her. We're together. I wish I could explain the hows and the whys. It's complicated though, but I do know I love her. I wish you could've met her. Since this letter is the closest to a goodbye I'm ever gonna give you, I feel I should explain a few things and give you some advice. _

_First of all, where I'm going even I'm not sure about. But I know it'll be ok. I wish I could tell you about the life you never knew I had. The life, up until tonight, I'd never known I'd had. It was wonderful, mostly because of Claire and her little boy Aaron. They are my family. I love them so much, and I know you must be feeling confused and possibly angry at this stage, wondering how I could've not told you all this. Again, it's complicated._

_Remember that night in San Francisco? We were excited about being there and you accidentally overdosed? I was terrified I'd lost you, but you woke up babbling about some beautiful woman called Karen and a little girl called Megan. Remember that? You seemed so entranced by that life, by the possibility it could've been real. What if I told you that life WAS real? _

_You're probably thinking I'm suicidal, perhaps had a beer too many. The only thing I'm drunk on, as cheesy as it will sound, is happiness. I've found my Karen, maybe it's time you found yours. The way you felt in that dream was the way I feel now – you were in love. It was spectacular, consciousness altering love, and I bet you didn't even realise it. Because the next day, after you'd checked out of the hospital and been called to the police station, all you could do was drink and drink to try and forget about it. _

_But that's the thing – you can't. Until you find her, Karen, you're most likely going to be unhappy forever, and I'd hate for that to be your fate. At least try. What have you got to lose? You could end up finding your happily ever after. I know I did._

_I love you, Li. Remember that. _

_Charlie _

Overlooking the mentions of heroin and excessive binging which, as a cop, she was supposed to be on guard for, she found the letter to be fairly devoid of anything useful. This wasn't exactly a typical suicidal letter and she couldn't make head or tails of anything.

She glanced over at her companion, who had his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking but she was sure he wasn't crying again – just shocked. She re-read the letter, convinced there was something she was missing, something perhaps she already knew but was blocking. But she'd never heard of this guy before, Charlie, and yet the name bubbled in the back of her mind, someone she'd loosely been associated with but as nothing more than a companion.

She sort of wished she hadn't come, because she felt just as lost as the man beside her. She'd been drawn to this church, this same church, despite the fact she frequently scorned religion. The first time had felt like a calling, like she was being beckoned by someone from afar. The second time had been when a huge – and she literally meant _huge_ – Nigerian priest had crossed paths with her whilst off duty. _That_ had been scary, not because of his size, but because she'd felt that his face was familiar and, in a large city like L.A. familiarity was never a good thing. The third and final time had been tonight, sparked off by the fact she'd been delegated to clearing Detective Ford's desk after the shocking news that he'd gone missing. She'd caught a picture of him and, having never seen him before, had done a double take.

Now she was here, staring up at a church with a strange sense of loneliness and loss pouring through her veins, holding a letter which made no sense in the rational part of her mind but, in the irrational part, made perfect sense at one and the same time.

"Who's this Karen chick?" she asked, feeling like one of them had to break the silence.

"I don't know," he replied croakily. "But I saw her, in my head. We had this perfect life in Australia, and had this beautiful little girl. I thought it was just a crazy dream, the result of mixing heroin and drinking." He shook his head in disgust. "But what if Charlie's right? She could be out there, and if I don't find her I'll be the biggest idiot ever."

She frowned, inwardly thinking it was the most stupid thing she'd ever heard of. She was half tempted to clap him in handcuffs – which, just coincidentally, she carried with her – and lock him in a cell for the night so he could sober up. But she felt uneasy, and knew she wouldn't do such a thing. They'd both been brought here for a reason. She just had to figure out what the reason for _her_ being there was.

"Thing is," he said uneasily. "Even if I _did_ decide to find her, where would I start? I've lost my brother; I don't want to lose the only real thing left in my life."

"What makes you so sure she's real?"

He smiled faintly at her. "Because I know my brother, and I know my own heart."

He suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled it to his chest. She tried to protest but he clutched it to his chest and she could feel his heart pulsing remarkably fast for someone his age. She wanted desperately to put it down to the fact he'd been drinking, but the logic of the world she was still clinging to was slowly fading and, with it, her sense of what was real. She thought she'd been frightened when that bullet had pierced flesh and had struck her down but that…that was nothing to the fear that maybe she was going crazy.

"Feel that?" he breathed. "That's my heart fighting. Fighting to find a reason to keep beating."

"Wow, that's poetic," she noted dryly, pulling her hand away.

She sighed and felt like she needed to do something. Chances were if she left this guy to find this girl who may or may not have existed, he was going to do something stupid, which would either result in his death or him being arrested. Believe it or not, she felt sorry for him. He clearly loved his brother and had to face the fact he was gone and, to top it off, he had a crazy and bitter cop sitting by him, watching his every move.

It wasn't the first time she'd had to make choices she wasn't entirely happy about, but it was the first time she'd voluntary decided to help another human being outside of work.

"I'm a cop," she reminded him. "I can track every Karen in the city. You go home, get sober and then meet me back here tomorrow at the same time, I can help you."

"Why?" he was genuinely curious to know.

"Because I've screwed up my chance to have a happy ever after," she said monotonously. "Three times, as a matter of fact. So, by that logic, I might as well help you get yours."

He cautiously rose to his feet, wondering why she was helping him. It had to go deeper than that but, as Charlie had drilled into him, he didn't want to question this bizarre blessing in disguise. He'd been worried, when she'd announced she was a cop, he'd end up in jail, but she seemed almost kind for a cop, albeit a bit strange. She was pretty too, but he suspected that was just the alcohol slurring around in his system which was making him stare at her like that.

"What's your name?" he asked.

She hesitated, debating whether or not to give him a false name just for the time being. Then she figured she was breaking all the rules anyway, so she might as well go the whole hog and admit to who she was.

"I'm Ana Lucia," she replied firmly. "You?"

It was his turn to hesitate.

"Liam," he hiccupped, still digesting the loss of Charlie in his head and his heart. "Liam Pace."

They briefly shook hands, as if closing the deal.

He was the first to stumble off, his sobs echoing across the night. She watched him leave and then saw an SUV drive in and park outside the church. Four people, three men and one woman she could just make out, stepped out and, laughing quietly, seemed to walk up to the church and disappeared inside in.

The insane urge to join them trickled through her like blood; it made no sense. But she knew, without knowing _how_, that she couldn't join them until she fully understood everything. Her whole world had been turned upside them and, until she figured it all out, she had to stay on the other side of the glass. Besides…she still had work to do.

And so, for the third time, she turned her back on her happily ever after.

X-X-X-X

**A/n: This was a challenge from my cousin who, on here, I believe is Wickedgal08. She basically gave me the theme of 'Helping Out' between two characters who have never met. I chose Liam and Ana. Weird choice I know but I hope you like. This idea wouldn't leave me alone once it was born! Ha, ha :P **


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